


Dancing with a Stranger

by Irvy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Background Relationships, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Clubbing, Dirty Dancing, Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, Hook-Up, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Thirsty Keith, Top Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 03:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17890376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irvy/pseuds/Irvy
Summary: This was stupid.This isn't Keith's scene. He hasn't been to a club in…God, it's probably been since Matt and Allura dragged him out for his twenty-first birthday."You here with anyone, gorgeous?"---Keith goes out, trying to forget about Shiro and his new boyfriend. Just as he's getting in over his head, he meets Lance. And Lance is more than Keith ever dared to hope for.





	Dancing with a Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write Klance for the first time, and one day later, I had...this. I'm shameless and I love tropey club fics, so here we are!
> 
> If you're sensitive to alcohol use, please take note, although nobody is drunk in this. (Definitely buzzed, though.)

This was stupid.

This isn't Keith's scene. He hasn't been to a club in…God, it's probably been since Matt and Allura dragged him out for his twenty-first birthday.

His nose crinkles, trying to ward off the overwhelming mix of musky colognes, sweet alcohol, and pungent sweat that inundates the place. This _really_ isn't his scene. Between the crush of bodies on the dance floor, the line snaking along the bar, and the booths secluded against one wall, he doesn't know where to start - or whether to start.

He should get out.

It's too late. He's already here.

_"Keith? What are you doing here?"_

Shiro's shocked words echo in his head, even louder than the thrumming bass.

Yeah, no, he can't leave. Where would he go? His roommate is on the couch with his new boyfriend, shirtless with his hand down said boyfriend's pants. Well, he was. By now, they've probably stripped and gotten down to it.

Keith always knew this could happen.

Wait too long, he reminds himself, and you lose your chance.

"You here with anyone, gorgeous?"

A deep, honeyed voice rips Keith from his reverie and he jerks, whirling to face the man who'd sidled up to him. He's tall, with silver hair and long, sinuous legs encased in what have to be genuine leather pants.

Keith crosses his arms, closing off his body language. Not his scene, not his type. Not even when he's mourning the loss of what could've been. Especially not with that hair - it's too long, not quite the right color, but it's pale enough to remind him of Shiro's.

"Not yet," he says, "but I'm not really looking, thanks."

It's a complete lie, but the guy has the good grace not to call him on it. His arched eyebrow says it all, anyway.

"If you change your mind, come find me," says the silver-haired man.

The sashay of his hips as he weaves through the crowd on the dancefloor sends a clear message: he truly believes, he _knows_ , that Keith will seek him out.

No way.

Another night, maybe Keith would've been weak to it, given into a sweet-voiced stranger who'd break and shake him and make him courtesy eggs in the morning. Another night, it would've been worth it.

Keith winds his own way through the club, sticking to the edges of the undulating crowd. When he's finally at the bar, he has long enough in the queue to think about whether he really should be doing this.

_"Keith, I should've introduced you sooner - this is my boyfriend, Curtis."_

Yes.

Yes, he should absolutely be doing this.

Unfortunately, he spent his entire time in line wondering whether he should be doing this, and not deciding on how, exactly, he's going to get _this_ started. When the bartender slides up to him, offering a playful smile, Keith freezes.

He hasn't drunk more than the occasional beer with Shiro since…okay, that's just embarrassing; the answer better not be his twenty-first birthday again. But that's not true. He gets brunch mimosas with Allura. That has to count.

The bartender pops her bubblegum, gaze already shifting to the guy behind him in line.

A sharp elbow bumps against Keith's, and Keith completely forgets the bartender waiting for him as his gaze locks onto blue eyes and a disarmingly earnest grin.

"Whoops, sorry," says the stranger. "Hey Ezor, can I get two more of these?" He gestures to the dregs of a startlingly blue drink in front of him.

With a fond shake of her head, the bartender says, "Why don't you finish the first before I give you another?"

"It's not just for me." The stranger tips his head at Keith.

As the bartender giggles and turns her back to make the drinks, Keith levels the man with what he hopes is a withering stare.

"I don't need you to buy me drinks," he says.

"Really? 'Cause you looked lost there for a minute," the guy says. Even in the dim light, they're close enough for Keith to see a faint smattering of freckles over his cheekbones. He blinks, refocusing on the man's blue eyes. "I figured you could use a nudge."

"Maybe," Keith admits. "I - haven't been out in awhile."

He doesn't reach for his drink when the bartender clinks it down. Not yet.

The man takes his but doesn't drink yet, instead fiddling with the cherry stem poking jauntily over the edge of the glass. He doesn't take his eyes off Keith.

It should be off-putting, this scrutiny. Keith's ready to ask this guy what his deal is, but where his jaw and nose are sharp, his smile is warm, with the slightest wink of a dimple. He can't quite summon the words to call the stranger out.

"Whatever it is, wanna tell me about it?"

Keith shakes his head. "There's not much to tell," he says.

_"This is my boyfriend, Curtis."_

Curtis had unfairly pretty blue eyes, widened in shock as he stared at Keith in the doorway.

Keith resists the impulse to shake his head again, harder this time. He sips cautiously at the drink - nothing that blue can be anything but bad news - and to his astonishment, it's sour-sweet and more than decent. He takes another swig before he can help himself.

The guy slurps the cherry off its stem, none too gracefully, but it makes Keith snort a laugh into his drink. They drink in silence for a moment. As close to silence as can come in a crowded club, but Keith still savors the feeling of not feeling pressured to talk.

He doesn't realize he's emptied his drink until the stranger slides off his barstool and sets his own glass down on the bar. He's tall, taller than Keith, with a lithe body made up of narrow planes and smooth lines.

Keith swallows hard.

"Dance with me?"

This is why he came here, after all. To forget what he'd seen, what he's lost. To forget Shiro grinding against his _boyfriend_.

The lingering sweetness of the drink goes bitter on Keith's tongue, and he finds himself shaking his head again.

This is why he came here and he still can't do it.

"Maybe later," he offers lamely.

The tall stranger's smile flickers for just an instant, or maybe it's a trick of the flashing lights. He steps in close enough for Keith to feel his body heat - close enough to touch.

"I'll hold you to it," he says. Then he barks out a laugh, and it's painfully charming, how unflattering that laugh is. How genuine. It catches Keith off guard. "I really won't, though. You're beautiful, and I'd love to dance with you, but I won't hold you to anything if you're not interested."

"I -" Keith bites his bottom lip.

"Anyway." The stranger shrugs, forced nonchalance that Keith recognizes all too well. "Ask for Lance at the bar if you decide you want to hold _me_ to anything."

He winks and shoots finger guns at Keith, who only manages to hold in his own startled laugh because his teeth have caught on his lip. That must not have been the response the stranger - Lance - was looking for, because he tosses Keith a breezy grin and turns away.

This isn't how it's supposed to go.

Wait too long and you lose your chance, he reminds himself.

But Lance is already gone.

Since he's still at the bar, Keith scoots into the seat Lance just vacated. Like clockwork, the bartender slides up in front of him with another appalling-colored drink, this one bright pink. Keith narrows his eyes at it before deciding if he's not going to do what he came here to do, at least he can get drunk.

After two of the pink drinks and a shot of something that tasted like storebrand cough syrup, Keith slaps his shot glass down and salutes to the bartender.

He's a little wobbly standing off the stool, but it's easy enough to wiggle between people queued up for the bar. The dance floor is even more packed now, the flowing mass of bodies like a pounding wave.

Keith takes a breath and dives in. This is what he came for.

He dances on his own at first, head bobbing and hips swaying with the music. Keith doesn't know the song. It doesn't matter. It's got a beat and he can dance to it.

Suddenly there are hands on his hips, but instead of throwing them off, Keith tosses his hair off his sweaty neck and lowers his own hands to cover the stranger's. He thinks about twisting around, turning to see who's grinding against him.

It's better to let the stranger clasp at his hip bones, drawing him in closer. Keith's buzzed but not so blitzed he can't take care of himself if the guy gets too handsy.

The beat thuds through the end of one melody and bleeds into another. There's another guy next to him, dancing close, and Keith's done playing coy. With the man behind him still bumping his hard dick against Keith's ass, Keith wriggles far enough from his grasp to reach out and pull the other guy into his orbit.

_"Keith? What are you -?"_

He shuts his eyes hard enough that brightness blooms behind his lids.

_"Keith? What -?"_

Keith chews on his bottom lip and gives in.

_"Keith?"_

Sandwiched between strangers, Keith's hair is damp on his neck and his shirt is plastered to his chest, riding up where both men have their hands on him. He's not even following the beat anymore, his ass shaking to the rhythm of the strangers surrounding him.

He wasn't enough for Shiro - he waited too long - but he's enough to get these guys hard. Keith works his ass back against the man behind him, earning a deep groan against the shell of his ear. The man in front of him chases Keith's hips with his own, sliding his hands up Keith's belly to tease his nipples through his shirt.

Keith can't help the little groan that escapes his throat. He's not going home with either of them but he's not dead, and his nipples have always been really sensitive, anyway…and why is he making excuses? This is what he wanted.

His jeans are getting tighter, all the heat and friction getting him worked up. His cock is half-hard against his fly and he squirms, trying to relieve the pressure. He's not wearing his come-fuck-me jeans - there wasn't time for that when he fled the apartment - but they're tight enough, the seam riding up his ass where the man behind him is thrusting against him.

He arches into the stranger's hands, smiles as the man behind him presses in tighter so his chest is flush to Keith's back. He must have long hair, because there's a tickling, silky brush against Keith's neck and collarbone.

The lights flash and Keith gets a glimpse of long silver hair tickling against his arm, catching on his sweaty skin.

He parts his lips to speak but the words don't come. He's not even sure what he plans to say.

Plans don't matter anyway, not when the silver-haired stranger crushes him into the bigger man in front of him. Keith has to catch himself with his hands against the guy's chest to keep from face-planting into him, and he gulps. He can't see anything but the man in front of him, boxed in as he is.

Keith's heart flutters to his throat.

"Hey," he protests.

"Shhh, pretty boy," the silver-haired man murmurs against his ear.

"Look," Keith starts, "I told you no earlier -"

"You said not yet," says the man. "You're with us now."

"I'm not _with_ anyone."

"An ass like this?" The stranger takes a handful of Keith's ass and squeezes, his fingers digging into the seam of Keith's jeans and pushing it farther between his cheeks. "That's a shame."

"Knock it off," Keith snaps.

The bigger man leans in, looming over Keith. In the dark, Keith swears his eyes are a predatory yellow. His breath stalls in his throat, frozen there with his jackrabbiting pulse, but the guy speaks over Keith's head to address the man behind him. "Lotor, your ex is watching."

"Excellent," says the silver-haired man. "Let's give him a show."

"I said, knock it off." Keith raises his voice.

"We'll leave you alone once I get what I came for."

Keith whips his head back to look the man in the eye and tell him off. As he turns, the silver-haired man licks along the curve of his ear. Is that a -? Yup, that's a tongue ring teasing at Keith's cartilage.

"Relax. I'll let my ex see how gorgeous you are, shaking your ass against me." The man's voice is husky against his ear. "We can pretend to go back to my table later, if you want. Or Sendak here can call you a cab."

Keith hesitates. Reluctantly, he nods.

He doesn't want to admit it, but he gets it. If Shiro were in this club right now, watching him, Keith would be tearing his shirt off and grinding his naked chest against a stranger's, just to see Shiro's jaw drop and his eyes go wide. And he never had Shiro. He never even had the chance.

"So…?" prompts the silver-haired man.

"Fine," Keith mutters.

The stranger's hands on his hips tighten even as the man in front of him backs off half a step.

Finally, he can see the dancefloor around him again. They're awash in a sea of bodies, but Keith clearly sees the man from earlier - Lance - frozen under a beam of light, as if he's a lone lifeboat drifting in a dark ocean.

The light flashes away the instant Keith's eyes lock onto Lance's. He bucks helplessly between the two men sandwiching him, one set of hands on his waist and the other grasping at his ass. His jeans are dangerously low now, below the jut of his hip bones, and if he weren't wearing underwear his asscrack would probably - no, definitely - be showing.

The hands on his waist tear away, leaving Keith swaying against empty air. As the beat fades, thrumming low between songs, the hands on his ass leave as well. He shivers. The club seems brighter all of a sudden.

Brighter, because the guy in front of him has backed off completely, and colder because the man behind him is gone. Keith swears he hears a deep, rolling laugh echo over the beginnings of a new song.

"Are you okay?"

Lance.

He's standing in front of Keith, laying his hands on Keith's shoulders. His touch is careful, gentle, thumbs stroking soft on Keith's shoulders and collarbone like he's petting a spooked animal.

Keith's far from spooked, now that Lance is here, with his long fingers and pretty, oceanic eyes.

He drapes his arms around Lance's trim waist and draws him in close. "Never better," he says.

"You're sure? Lotor - he's bad news, my dude. I need to know if he said or did anything to you."

"He said he wanted to make his ex jealous," says Keith.

Lance hisses out something that sounds like _motherfucker_.

"Guess it's safe to assume you're the ex."

Lance nods, hands roving from Keith's shoulders down his arms, tracing the lines of Keith's biceps. Keith shivers under his touch.

"Hi ex, I'm Keith." Keith snickers at his own terrible attempt at humor.

"That was the _worst_ ," Lance says, but he's laughing too. "I like having a name to go with the pretty face, though."

His eyes are shadowed, looking down at Keith. As the beat picks up, vibrating through Keith's bones, he presses impossibly closer to Lance, wanting to bring the light back to Lance's face. Lance's breath catches and his chest heaves against Keith's. Keith must be doing something right.

"Dance with me?"

Lance grins, the spark back in his smile and the dimple returning to his cheek. "I thought we already were." His grip on Keith's biceps slips away, hands falling to Keith's waist.

"Not real dancing," says Keith.

Spurred on by the music, Keith takes the chance and grinds against Lance, his softening cock returning to half-mast. He makes sure Lance feels how real his interest is, rocking his hips forward, spreading his thighs to bracket them around Lance's.

Lance's eyebrows shoot up for an instant, and then he's smirking, flexing his thigh. He's lean, but Keith can feel strength in him. Not only in his legs, but core strength too - Lance proves it by executing a perfect body roll against Keith.

Oh God, Keith's a goner. He chews on his lower lip, sucking on it the way he wants to suck on Lance's lips. Or on his cock. He's got a nice cock - Keith could feel just how nice when Lance rolled it against him.

He bumps and bounces his ass off Lance's thigh, practically humping his leg. It's shameless, thirsty, desperate, whatever. Keith doesn't care. His shirt's ridden up again and Lance's fingertips are twitching against his bare skin, like he's trying not to dig them into Keith.

If he wanted to leave his marks on Keith, it wouldn't matter. Let him. Let everyone see, let Shiro see, that someone wanted Keith tonight. That _Lance_ wanted him.

Still riding Lance's thigh, Keith's lips part and he hears himself moan. He's torturously hard in his jeans, his nipples peaking against his shirt. Lance takes notice and slides a hand up under his shirt to tease him.

Keith bucks against Lance, arches into the fingers stroking and plucking at his nipple. Then the touch is gone, and he groans at the loss, surging forward to press his chest against Lance's, damp warmth radiating between their bodies.

"You're sensitive, huh," says Lance. It isn't a question.

"And you're a tease," says Keith.

He grins as Lance hooks his fingers over the waist of his jeans. He should really be more concerned about baring his ass to the entire club, but with the healthy heat of Lance's bulge pressing against his, Keith can't give a damn about anything else. If he was hard before, he's aching now. His dick is straining in his jeans, pulsing not with the beat, but with every roll of Lance's hips. He swears he's starting to leak.

Right there, in the middle of the dancefloor, Lance works one of his hands down the front of Keith's jeans and cups his dick through his briefs. "Mmm, baby," he hums, "you're _wet_."

Keith buries his face in Lance's neck, a whine rising from his throat before he can choke it back.

Lance's hand closes around Keith's shaft and squeezes. Another moan spills from Keith's lips and another stream of pre spills from his cock. He bucks against Lance, harder this time, crushing Lance's groping hand between their bulges.

He hasn't left Lance much room to work, but Lance still manages to dig his thumb into the wet spot spreading over Keith's crown. He drags the fabric in circles over Keith's slit, drawing out more precum, until Keith is clutching at Lance's waist, clawing at his sides.

He mouths at Lance's neck, sucking a kiss over the artery pulsing there. He feels Lance's throat rumble with a moan, but he doesn't let up the assault on Keith's cock. He's still stroking Keith's length through his briefs, thumb leaving his slit to torture the sensitive spot just under the head.

"Lance," Keith moans. " _Lance_."

He's going to come in his pants if Lance doesn't let up. His whole body is throbbing.

"And you thought I was a tease." He can hear Lance's grin. "Keep saying my name like that and I'm gonna bend you over right here."

"Yes, please," Keith gasps. He licks up Lance's neck, kisses under the sharp line of his jaw. "Let's get out of here."

One last stroke and Lance extracts his hand from Keith's jeans. His eyes are shadowed again, pupils blown. His smile has a feral edge to it, and he laughs a little wildly as he palms at Keith's ass.

"I can't believe we're doing this," he says.

"I can." Keith nips at Lance's chin, following his teeth with the flat of his tongue. He wants to kiss Lance, so badly he's shaking with it.

He shouldn't.

He doesn't.

But he peppers Lance's jaw with kisses, licks at the soft spot just under his ear. He bites and sucks at Lance's neck, unable to keep his mouth or his hands still. He's got his hands up the back of Lance's shirt, tracing the lean planes of muscle there, grasping at Lance to draw him closer.

Lance's hands aren't still either, kneading at Keith's ass now. Somehow he slipped his thigh from between Keith's legs without him noticing, and he's rocking his bulge into Keith's again. Even through their jeans, Keith can feel the searing heat of him. His mouth waters and he sucks harder at Lance's jaw.

"Okay, we've gotta go," Lance says, "or I really am gonna turn you around and fuck you right here."

Keith pulls his lips from Lance's skin with a wet pop. "Where to?"

Throwing a glance over each shoulder, Lance shrugs. "Bathrooms?"

Keith wants to roll his eyes. That's hardly what he had in mind, but, "I guess?" he grates out.

"D'you have a better idea? I'd say my car, but I didn't drive tonight."

Keith didn't either. Even in his rush to get the hell away from Shiro's startled eyes and stammered introductions, he had the foresight to take the train. After he ran halfway here, that is, but Lance doesn't need to know that.

"There's a gender-neutral bathroom on the second floor," Lance says.

"There's a second floor?"

"Yeah." Lance tightens his hold on Keith's ass, tugging him closer. "Let's go."

In an instant, he trades his grip on Keith's ass for clutching at his hand, leading him off the dancefloor. They duck and weave through the throng and Keith's pretty sure he hears Lance's laughter above the pounding music.

He wonders if Lance isn't leading him to the bathrooms after all, as they pass the bar and head for the back hallway, but then Lance is steering him around a corner and there are the stairs.

"Oh," says Keith.

"C'mon."

They make it to the top of the stairs before Keith can't take it anymore. He backs around the corner, shoulders bumping into a wall, reeling Lance into him.

"Baby," Lance gasps, and then the swell of his cock is pressed against Keith's, his hips and hands pinning Keith to the wall. "God, you're driving me crazy."

"I could say the same," says Keith. "I don't usually do this." His hands roam up Lance's back to ruffle the short hair at the nape of his neck. "What'm I saying, I _never_ do this."

Lance leans in, lips hovering over Keith's. His smile is too close, his breath too hot. Keith's going to kiss him, his lips tingling with need. He parts them and Lance blinks, cocks his head to one side. He's moving closer, stealing Keith's breath and bringing his heart thudding to a stop, and then his lips land on Keith's earlobe.

Keith should be disappointed. His lips pout, desperate to taste Lance's mouth, but Lance catches his earlobe in his teeth and pulls. Keith's hips buck like there's a string between his ear and his dick. Maybe there is. He never knew how sensitive his ears were, or maybe it's just Lance.

Lance, whose thumbs are tracing the hard buds of Keith's nipples through his shirt, coaxing whimpers from Keith's needy lips. He noses aside a lock of Keith's hair to lick sweat from his temple.

Lifting his leg, Keith hooks his calf around the backs of Lance's knees and pulls him in. They both groan at the friction.

"You want it that bad?" Lance chuckles. "Slut."

That word has never had much of an effect on Keith. He knows he's not a slut. Hell, he just admitted as much to Lance.

But his cock's painfully hard, throbbing against his fly, and his ass chooses that moment to clench and remind him how empty he is. He lets his leg slip a little lower on Lance's, trying to regain his balance.

"I'm not," Keith corrects him, looking up through his eyelashes, "but you could make me slutty for you."

He repays Lance's earlier body roll with one of his own, though he trembles as he feels Lance's cock twitch through his jeans.

Lance snaps his hips so hard against Keith that it knocks a moan from him, his fingers clutching at Lance's hair. His other hand is on Lance's ass, wordlessly commanding Lance to keep rutting his dick against Keith's. He can feel something under his fingers in Lance's back pocket. Intrigued, he reaches in and retrieves a packet of lube and a condom.

"Perfect," says Lance, already going for Keith's fly.

Keith groans as Lance undoes his jeans, pushing them low on his hips. His cock is still making a mess of his black briefs, but at least he has some relief. Lance rubs two fingertips over the wet spot, teasing Keith's drooling slit all over again.

"Lance, come on."

"Well, when you beg me like that," says Lance.

Peeling Keith's underwear down to join his jeans, Lance seems to slow down intentionally, allowing the damp fabric to catch and drag against the head of Keith's cock. Keith shivers, grounds himself with his hand on Lance's ass.

The sound of Lance's jeans unzipping tears him back to earth.

Forget the music rattling the floor beneath them, forget getting drunk, forget dancing with a stranger - _this_ is what Keith came for.

He knew Lance had a nice dick. It's long, cut, pointing proudly at Keith with a head blunt enough to seriously pound his prostate if Lance knows how to work it right. And Keith's sure, the way Lance has been playing his body tonight, that Lance knows too damn well how to work it.

He said Lance could make him slutty and he was telling the truth. Lance's dick makes Keith drool so much he's gagging for it. He's pretty sure his mouth's open already.

Lance pumps himself a few times, slowly, like he's showing off. Keith's so fixated on Lance's long fingers wrapped around that long cock that he barely registers the sound of Lance tearing open the packet of lube with his teeth.

Keith hitches his leg back up around Lance's, getting it as high as he can with his jeans still bunched around his knees. Which isn't as high as he'd like. He licks his lips, shoves two fingers in his mouth to get them wet.

"You don't need to do that, babe," says Lance.

Keith hums around his fingers. Adds a third.

Lance waggles the little packet of lube at him.

A trail of drool slaps against Keith's chin as he takes his fingers out of his mouth. "Oh yeah."

Smiling indulgently at him, Lance lets his cock bounce against Keith's with a soft smack. He takes both of them in hand, stroking Keith into surrender. Whimpers tumble from Keith's lips and he ruts desperately into the warmth of Lance's hand, the hard perfection of his cock. His ass clenches again, just as desperate, and Keith forgets about the lube, forgets everything but need.

He sinks one spit-slick finger into himself, immediately adding another when that's not enough.

"Take it easy, beautiful," Lance says.

But Keith's way past easy. Or maybe he's too easy, the way his dick's drooling precum over Lance's. Lance smears the moisture over both of them with a sigh that sounds suspiciously like Keith's name.

He squeezes the packet, a spurt of lube pouring down its sides to slick his fingers. Then one of those fingers is inside Keith, next to his own. It's…a lot, and still not enough. Keith's ass flutters at the stretch.

This time, he knows Lance says his name, low and rough.

"Lance," he replies raggedly.

"Baby, you're too tight."

"Loosen me up, then. Get me ready to sit on your dick." Keith has no idea what's making him say these things - he _never_ says these things - but he can't seem to stem the flow. It's like his mouth's opening up along with his ass. "God, I wish you could cum in my ass. I wanna feel you dripping out of me when I leave."

" _Fuck_ ," groans Lance. "Keith, babe, you're gonna kill me."

"You're gonna kill me if you don't get your cock in my ass," Keith pants.

"Slut." Lance tries to chuckle, but the effect's (more than) somewhat diminished by his sharp, quick thrusts, his precum spilling over to join Keith's slicking their dicks. He pushes a second finger into Keith. His knuckles drag along Keith's, fingertips rubbing searchingly inside him.

It burns, but it's good, so good, and Keith's eyes roll back, breath coming in blissful sobs as Lance curls his fingers against his prostate. "Your slut."

"Mm-hmm," Lance says, pumping his fingers in and out so his knuckles catch on Keith's rim. His fingertips find Keith's prostate every time, merciless. "Think you're ready for it?"

Keith nods so furiously his head knocks against the wall. Though Lance hisses in sympathy and tries to reach for him with his free hand, Keith jerks his head aside, flicking a few beads of sweat onto the floor.

"You sure?" Lance says.

"I need your dick so bad," says Keith. "Fuck me. Hard."

Without Lance's fingers in him, Keith slumps against the wall, sinking deeper onto his own hand. Lance denies him even that, tugging at Keith's wrists until only his fingertips are left, teasing the edge of his entrance.

"Am I fucking you, or are you fingering yourself until you come?" Lance asks. "Either way, I get a show, so I win."

"Fuck you," says Keith, but he obligingly pulls his fingers out. "Fuck me."

Lance clicks his tongue. "Mouthy." He tears open the condom, again with his teeth. "Next time, I'll put that mouth to use. See how sassy you can be when you're choking on my cock."

_Next time._

Keith's pretty sure something blossoms in his lower belly at that, fluttering in time with his ass.

He distracts himself with pushing his jeans farther down, shivering slightly as his bare ass meets the cool wall behind him. He's banking on no one else knowing about the bathroom up here - which is where they were supposed to go in the first place, but Lance seems to have erased his remaining logic.

Squirting the last of the lube directly onto his dick, Lance rolls the condom on. With one last, long stroke, he lets go of his cock, hands cupping Keith's ass.

"Ready, babe?"

Keith wriggles in Lance's grasp. "I need it. Please."

They're close enough in height that Lance doesn't have to lift Keith far to line him up. Fingers clasping Keith's asscheeks, he spreads them wider, the blunt tip of his cock kissing Keith's hole for the longest moment of his life.

With a deep breath, Keith relaxes.

He tenses up again immediately as Lance splits him open. He tries to breathe, but it's shuddering, his ass clutching at the head of Lance's cock. His pulse is in his throat, roaring in his ears, drowning out the bass downstairs. Above it all, he hears Lance's moan, husky and punched-out, as he buries a few more inches into Keith.

His ass is sore. His cock pulses between their bodies, trapped and leaking onto his belly. His thighs scream with the tension of clamping them around Lance's waist.

Keith never wants it to end.

Releasing a ragged breath, Keith forces himself to bear down against Lance's length. Finally, his muscles cooperate, and he bites back a broken moan the deeper Lance sinks into him.

Lance's fingertips are still digging into his ass, but his thumbs brush over Keith's skin, tracing soothing little circles. "Keith? Baby? You good?"

" _Soooo_ good," Keith groans. "Lance -"

But whatever he was going to say, Lance pushes the words from his brain, sheathing his cock all the way in Keith's ass. His hip bones meet Keith's asscheeks, his skin a scorching contrast to the chill of the wall seeping through Keith's shirt.

The pace Lance sets is gentle, so slow Keith can feel every inch of Lance's cock as though it's an eternity. He likes it at first, but then it's agonizing. The tenderness, the care Lance is showing him - it's burning Keith up inside, making him writhe on Lance's cock. He wants more, craves it, knows he doesn't deserve it.

For tonight, though, he's going to take what he wants.

He ruts into Lance, grinding his ass onto Lance's dick until he's fully seated again. With a surprised moan, Lance meets Keith's thrust with a snap of his hips, his grip tightening on Keith's ass. He's going to leave fingerprints.

The thought sends a bolt of pleasure through Keith, sizzling low in his belly.

Lance's cock is battering his prostate, stoking the flames inside him. Keith can't hold back anymore. Arching his back, he uses the wall for leverage, fucks himself faster onto Lance's length. They're lucky the music's loud, because Keith's voice is rising, crying out with every thrust.

Lance isn't much better off, gasping, "Keith, baby, _yeah_."

His thrusts are fevered, pounding into Keith, crumpling him up against the wall so his legs lose their purchase on Lance's waist. He's speared on Lance's cock, suspended, hands scrabbling at Lance's shoulders, scraping over his chest.

His cock weeps between them, precum staining the hem of his shirt and puddling in his navel. Lance shifts his hold on Keith's ass, as if to slide his hand to Keith's cock.

Keith thrashes his head against the wall. "I don't need that," he pants. "Just your cock. Just you, Lance, please."

" _Keith_." Lance's voice sounds as raw as Keith feels.

He can't pull out all the way, not with Keith scrambling to twine his legs back around him, but Lance robs Keith's ass of a few inches, holding Keith still so he can't hump back onto Lance's dick. After a few shallow rolls of his hips, barely grazing Keith's prostate, Lance slams the full force of his cock back in.

The assault of pleasure is too much. Keith's ass spasms, cock bobbing and twitching against his stomach, balls drawn tight. Lance drives his dick deeper and pauses, letting Keith feel the throbbing thickness of him. When he starts to thrust again, dragging insistently over Keith's prostate, Keith cries out, his eyes falling closed as though he can shut out the waves washing over him, pushing him closer and closer.

"Lance," he gasps, drowning. " _Lance_."

He's overstimulated, and then he's over the edge.

Cum splashes over his shirt, drips in thick, pearly ribbons down the fabric. It sticks to his chest, his stomach, a few splatters reaching Lance's shirt, and Keith practically purrs, thinking of Lance leaving here with some trace of Keith on him.

And Lance - if his voice was raw before, it's absolutely shattered as he buries his cock in Keith and comes. Keith likes to imagine the hot pulses of it filling the condom, temporarily overtaken by fever dreams of what Lance must taste like.

Lance's cock twitches inside him and Keith responds by contracting his muscles, clenching around Lance. He's rewarded with one last twitch and a slurred groan of, "Nnngh, _baby_."

Riding the crest of his climax, Keith's head lolls to one side, regarding Lance through half-lidded eyes. A flush has erased the faint smattering of freckles from his cheeks. Sweat beads at his hairline, slicking his bangs to his forehead. And he's smiling the most incredible, breathless smile at Keith, eyes glowing like moonlight on the ocean.

He pulls out with a sibilant sound of complaint, pinches the condom off. Keith finds his footing, comes back to earth. His shirt's beyond help and so are his briefs, but he shimmies back into them, wincing as the fabric encloses his dick.

The whole time, his gaze is glued to Lance, watching him tuck himself back in his jeans. He gives his softening cock a little pat, as though he's congratulating it, and it takes everything left in Keith not to giggle. He'd really like to congratulate Lance's dick too, if he's being honest.

Looking down at his shirt, Lance's cheeks puff in a quiet laugh. With a shrug, he wipes his hands on his jeans and zips back up.

His eyes find Keith's again, his smile stretching to a full-on grin as he hooks one thumb in his own belt loop, the other in Keith's.

 _Next time_ , he'd said. Keith hopes there's still a next time after what he's about to do.

Resting his forehead against Lance's, he lets Lance's labored breathing wash over his skin for an endless moment before bringing their lips together.

Lance's lips are slack against his, slightly parted, and Keith's tongue seeks the space between them. He licks at the curve of Lance's lower lip, presses past his teeth. Just as he's starting to think he's made a mistake, Lance's tongue meets his between their mouths. He seals their bodies back together, smothering Keith's chirp of surprise with his lips.

He kisses Keith like it matters, like he needs this. It's - a lot. More than Keith can process. He loses himself to Lance's tongue, the sweet sting of his teeth tugging at Keith's lips.

When they part, Keith's panting, his lips swollen. He knows it's ridiculous, but he hopes the tingling aftermath of their kiss stays with him the whole way home.

Home. _Shit_.

He'd forgotten.

"Keith?"

Lance's voice rattles him free from the spiral he'd been about to sink into.

"Hey, whatever it is - you don't have to tell me, but…" He shoves his hands into his pockets, and Keith's keenly, painfully aware of how cold he feels without those hands on him. "I really hope there's a next time."

"Yeah," says Keith, because it's all he can say at this point.

"You're beautiful, and funny, and you deserve better than a rebound," Lance is rambling. "I'm some stranger in a bar, what the hell do I even know? I mean, I know you're gorgeous - I already said that. Damn."

Keith brushes a kiss over Lance's lips, stemming the flow of words. "I'm some stranger in a bar too, you know," he says. He fumbles in his pocket until he remembers that his phone's in his jacket pocket, in the coat check. Downstairs. Dammit. "And I want a next time. You're…" He stops himself.

"Handsome? Charming? A great lay?"

Keith manages a mock glare for about two seconds before he breaks into a smile. "All of the above," he says. "It's dangerous. I shouldn't…"

"Let's see how it goes next time," says Lance. "Right now, I need a napkin or something so I can give you my number."

"Or we could go to the coat check and get our phones," suggests Keith. "And we could find somewhere with fries."

"Ooh, make it cheesy loaded fries and you're on."

"You're easy to please."

"Says the guy who came without me touching his dick." If Keith didn't know better - and he does know better - he'd say Lance is gloating.

He jostles at Lance's shoulder, unable to contain his smile. "C'mon, take me out of here."

This still isn't his scene. This is probably still stupid. His heart still pangs, thinking of white hair and dark eyes, but the tightness in his chest eases when Lance takes his hand and all but yanks him down the stairs, gunning for the coat check. The emptiness that brought him here feels less damning, more like...possibility.

Keith laughs at himself. One earth-shaking fuck and here he is, dreaming about the future.

He's never had very good timing, but at least he has great taste.

Lance's hand is warm, his smile is heart-stoppingly beautiful, and he's totally shameless about walking out of the club with Keith's cum on his shirt.

_"Keith? What are you doing here?"_

Keith doesn't know what he's doing.

But right now, he's excited to find out.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading Baby's First Klance Fic™! I hope it did even the tiniest bit of justice to these boys I love so much. ♥


End file.
